


Trimūrti

by Annaelle



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DameRey, DarkPilot, Darkjedipilot, Eventual Smut, F/M, Light Side AU, M/M, Multi, OT3, Poe/Ben, Pre-OT3, Reylo - Freeform, This is going to drive you crazy, This story will be a monster, Threesome - F/M/M, eventual OT3, it is already out of control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-29 22:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6396121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There have been whispers in the dark for as long as he can remember—whispers that speak of greatness and power; of stepping out of the shadows of his parents and their parents; of being known for his own skills and name rather than those that came before him. He had been too young to understand what those whispers meant for a long time—too young to contemplate the ramifications of allowing the soft voice access to his mind." -- Ben Solo is strong. But even the strongest among us will stumble eventually. He finds himself inordinately lucky to have two people that will catch him when he falls.<br/>POE/REY/BEN -- SLOW BURN OT3 -- BEN/POE AT THE START -- REY JOINS IN LATER -- SPY BEN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inability To Protect

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there everyone! 
> 
> This little story is a product of my overactive imagination and my many discussions with Juulna on the topic :D There will be Ben/Poe/Rey smut and relationship later on in the story, but at this point, I'm not sure how long that will take. Please, do prepare yourselves for a slow burn though, and for mentions of DarkPilot, Reylo and Damerey before DarkJediPilot all get together. 
> 
> I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I do! :D
> 
> Love, Annaelle
> 
> PS Thanks to Juulna for being the BESTEST beta and friend ever!

**Trimūrti**

## The "Trimūrti" is a concept in Hinduism "in which the cosmic functions of creation, maintenance, and destruction are personified by the forms of Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver, and Shiva the destroyer or transformer.”

# Prologue  
Inability to Protect

## “I guess what scares me the most now is the thought that I won't be able to protect you.”  
―Julia Hoban

**BEN**

There have been whispers in the dark for as long as he can remember—whispers that speak of greatness and power; of stepping out of the shadows of his parents and their parents; of being known for his own skills and name rather than those that came before him. He had been too young to understand what those whispers meant for a long time—too young to contemplate the ramifications of allowing the soft voice access to his mind.

Before his mother sent him to study with his Uncle, Ben had found solace and comfort with a single other being—the only other child on the planet that did not regard him with mixed trepidation and awe.

One single person that made little Ben Solo feel like a person.

Poe Dameron was a little more than three years his senior, but it bothered him not. In fact, he preferred spending time with the older boy to spending it with his peers—there had been several occasions on which Ben had found that he did not quite fit in with those his own age.

He always preferred books to sword-play and sitting at his mother’s feet while she made conference calls, listening to her calm, soothing voice as she spoke to ambassadors from all over the galaxy.

And yet, despite Poe Dameron’s pleasant company, the little voice in the back of his head never quite went away. In fact, as time passed, and Ben Solo learned of his Force Sensitivity, and what it meant for the rest of his life, the voice became darker and more insistent—things _happen_ _ed_ sometimes, when he was upset or afraid, or even when he was simply excited.

It is beyond his control, his mother tells him each time, and while he wishes to believe her loving words and wishes to take comfort in her arms, he fears more and more each day that the little voice is right when it insists that he is but a failure—a danger to those around him.  

It is not until his mother sends him from her side at the tender age of nine that he begins to _believe_ what the voice tells him.

Fortunately, his Uncle is understanding of his plight, and offers him a form of support his mother and father had been unable to provide, and for a short time, Ben’s mind is free of the little voice. For a time, he is able to satiate his own fears, and he quickly learns he excels in his studies when he is not crippled by fear of failure and rejection.

In fact, it is not until Ben’s twelfth name day that he hears the little voice again.

The day itself has gone rather splendidly—Ben has spent many hours in the company of his parents and Poe’s parents and with Poe himself, and he feels lighter and freer than he can ever recall feeling before. There is only laughter and happiness in the moments he spends with them, and he relishes in the time they are allotted together.

He spends hours showing Poe every lightsaber sequence he has mastered so far, delighting in Poe’s every gasp of surprise, every excited squeal and every eager demand for more.

It is not until after his mother has wrapped him in a tender embrace and kissed the top of his head, until after his father has squeezed his shoulder and has given him an awkward one-armed hug, until _after_ he and Poe have performed their customary secret handshake and Poe has given him a swift and awkward kiss on the cheek that the little voice once again makes an appearance.

Its whispers are deceptively kind and understanding when they speak of his frustration over missing his family and his best friend. When it speaks of the taunts other Padawans and Knights have thrown at him, there is a rage within Ben’s heart that he cannot quell, despite his best efforts—despite his knowledge of the dangers rage and anger can lead to.

He trudges up the stairs that lead to the second level of the Great Temple, where his sleeping quarters are located, silently contemplating what the little voice has told him—what it continues to tell him.

It speaks of Uncle Luke’s inability to help Ben reach his true potential—of the flaws that permeate the Jedi Order that his Uncle is restoring—of Ben’s own shortcomings and faults—of a power greater than any his Uncle would ever be able to harness—one that would help Ben become great and powerful and _respected_ beyond his wildest imaginations.

It promises him _everything_ he could ever desire—from the freedom to follow a path of his own making, without the fear of hurting those he loves, to the courage to tell Poe of his feelings. He much desires to be brave enough to admit that he likes his friend _very much_ , and that he wishes to hold Poe’s hand and kiss his cheek, much like he has seen his father do for his mother.

He knows, however, that Jedi Knights are not allowed such attachments, and the thought causes him a kind of sadness he cannot name.

After that night, the voice is once again more present in his life.

Its whispers vary from compassionate and understanding to dark and demanding, and he finds it increasingly difficult to separate his own thoughts and feelings from those the voice instills in his mind.

He grows more impatient and sullen, though he does not fully understand why, himself. He attempts to regain some of his former youthful candor as he spars with the other Padawans and meditates with his Uncle, but it is almost as though something is blocking him from _enjoying_ the life he has been given.

His dreams are darker and more frightening, and he grows to fear nights as the knowledge that he will awaken within a few hours, feeling far less rested than he should.

He has never felt more inadequate and weak.

By his fourteenth name day, he is certain that everything the little voice has been attempting to tell him since he had been a mere child is the truth. He has long since sensed that his Uncle and the others have grown weary of his presence, and even his mother and father visit far less frequently than they used to—he has only seen Poe a handful of times since his twelfth name day, and though they communicate through letters that his Uncle delivers to the Damerons, Ben slowly grows to believe that his oldest friend has grown tired of him as well.

 _“He fears your power_ ,” the voice whispers maliciously. “ _He is jealous and petty, much like the others in the Temple. They cannot understand your power. They only know how to_ fear _it. You should not concern yourself with those who are beneath you.”_

It is the first time he truly believes the words.

“I’ll not concern myself with those beneath me,” he tells the voice obediently. “What must I do?”

“ _Train and prepare yourself_ ,” the voice tells him. “ _You must become the best lightsaber fighter at the Temple if you could ever hope to reach your true potential—when you are ready, I shall call upon you to prove your loyalty and your strength.”_

And so, over the next year, he does as the voice has demanded of him.

He withdraws from his Uncle and family more than he had before, but shows himself as a dutiful, eager student, and spends much of his time pouring over old records and holopads containing information about the Jedi and Sith Orders of old.

When the time comes, he chooses to specialize in Djem So, feeling that the Form comes more naturally to him than the others, and flourishes beneath his Master’s careful tutelage.

His training in Force Abilities progresses even faster than the things he learns during his lightsaber training, and he soon discovers he has a talent for telekinetic Force Abilities. He senses that his nimble progress in his studies both worries his Uncle and instills a sense of pride in the elder man that Ben has never before felt in his life—not directed towards him.

When he wins his first duel against a Master, his Uncle ambles up to him and clasps his shoulder firmly, his lips curled into a grin as he tells Ben that he will be a powerful and just Master one day.

The thought of being powerful as a Jedi gives Ben pause, and he wonders if, perhaps, the little voice had been wrong after all—perhaps he _would_ still be able to step from his family’s shadow while walking the path of the Jedi.

As he returns to the benches, however, where each Padawan awaits their turn to spar with their Master, he is overwhelmed by vile, jealous comments from his fellow Padawans.

  _“It’s just because he’s Master Luke’s nephew_.”

 _“He’s not_ actually _that good_.”

_“They're giving him unfair advantages.”_

Of course, Ben has always been aware that there was a certain degree of envy towards him within the Temple—the Force runs strong within his family, and it would not be the first time he has heard malicious rumours…

But it is the first time he wonders whether there is a measure of truth within their words.

The little voice comes to him again that night—its whispers steady and seductive as it murmurs promises of freedom, strength and power. _“Patience, young Solo,”_ the voice insists. _“Soon I shall call upon you to carry out a true test of loyalty—and then you shall be brought to my side. The Dark will make you the most powerful of all times.”_

Patience is no longer one of his virtues, but he complies nonetheless, focusing all of his attention on his training and the progression of his skills. He receives several holocalls from his mother in the months that pass, and while the sound of her voice would once have been a source of comfort and strength for him, the voice had long since pointed out that she kept him anchored in the Light.

His love for his mother will keep him from reaching his true potential, much like his grandfather’s love for his wife had crippled him and had driven the man to near-madness.

 _“You will dispose of her one day_ ,” the voice tells him venomously. _“You will dispose of_ all _that anchor you to the Light Side—all those that would oppose your journey to_ true _power.”_

“Yes, Master,” he replies, despite the churning deep in his stomach at the thought of having to _harm_ any of those that he cares for—he may feel that they are attempting to keep him from reaching his true potential, but his love for his family and his best friend runs deep, and it will take more than a few whispers to quench the embers of that love.

Three standard months later, his Master finally gives him an assignment.

A chance to exert his true strength and establish his loyalty to his new Master.

_“Reconnect with Poe Dameron. Your affection for him causes naught but weakness. Eliminate him.”_

The order is how Ben finds himself standing outside the Dameron home, nervously tugging on his Padawan braid as he contemplates what to say to the friend he has hardly seen in three years. He has wondered about Poe often, of course—in his letters, Poe had often mentioned a desire to join the New Republic as a pilot, and Ben wonders if his friend ever did manage to get into the Academy.

“Are you just going to stand there or will you come in?”

Ben jumps violently, silently scolding himself for allowing Poe to sneak up on him—he should have sensed Poe’s presence approaching him long before Poe actually reached him.

“I—” He falls silent, eyes wide as he takes in Poe’s appearance.

He’s uncertain _why_ Poe’s good looks strike him so—he has always thought, to a certain degree, that Poe was the most handsome boy he’d ever seen. Poe’s big brown eyes and kind smile had always disarmed anyone Poe had aimed it at, and Ben can only conclude that Poe’s smile—honestly, he means Poe’s _everything_ —has become even more devastatingly attractive in the past three years.

It makes him feel strangely self-conscious about his own gangly and out-of-proportion looks—from his too-long and skinny legs to his big ears and large nose—and he bites his lip nervously.

Suddenly the order to _eliminate_ Poe Dameron’s existence feels like an impossibility, for surely the galaxy would be a darker, lesser place without Poe’s radiant smile there to brighten it. Without the voice’s constant whispers in his mind, Ben finds it far more difficult to remember _why_ he wanted the things the voice promised him—freedom, infamy and indomitable power are _nothing_ in the face of losing his friends and family, and he is unsure what possessed him to think that it _was_.

“Ben?”

Poe’s hand on his shoulder breaks through the haze he had worked himself into, and Ben is suddenly overcome by a wave of _disgust_ with himself.

“No,” he shakes his head, stumbling back, away from Poe’s touch—he _has_ to get away before the voice returns and takes his mind and will from him again… Before he will once again think that erasing Poe’s existence is a necessary evil on the path he must take. “No, stay away from me,” he chokes, tripping over his own limbs in his haste to get away from Poe. “Don’t come any closer!”

His vision blurs with treacherous tears when Poe ignores him and kneels before him, disregarding Ben’s continued attempts to get away from him until Ben’s back is pressed against the glowing tree that stands tall and proud in the Dameron’s yard—and Ben feels a wave of calm serenity wash over him, almost as though he had been meditating for hours.

“Tell me what’s wrong, buddy,” Poe pleads, crawling forward until he is close enough to cup Ben’s cheeks in his hands.

Ben winces, despite the fact that he _loves_ the feel of Poe’s skin on his. “No, I can’t,” he shakes his head jerkily, reaching up with shaking hands to pull Poe’s hands off his cheeks. “I can’t tell you—I can’t say—it’s too—”

“Ben,” Poe interrupts him with a stern, serious voice that Ben has never once heard him use before. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why did you come here?” Something akin to hurt flashes through Poe’s eyes, but it is gone again before Ben can positively say that it was there at all. “Why did you stop writing back when I wrote to you?”

Ben remains mum, even if only because he has no defense for his actions towards the man that had once been his very best friend. “I’m sorry,” he replies quietly. “I thought it was best. To keep you safe. ”

Poe draws back, his eyes dark and sad as he rises to his feet once again, brushing the dirt from his trousers before offering Ben his hand. “I think we have much to talk about. Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Ben stares up at his friend for a long time, carefully weighing the options he has left before shutting his eyes briefly, allowing the Force to guide him to the path he is meant to take. When he opens his eyes again, his mind is clear, and for the first time since the little voice had taken up residence in his mind, the path before him is clear and no longer shrouded in shadow.

He takes Poe’s hand.


	2. Chapter One - Noir Hero

# Chapter One  
Noir Hero

## "The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time.”  
—Frank Miller

**POE**

**Ten Years Later**

The single-story sandstone building does not look like much of a cantina from the outside, and had he not been here before Poe might think he’d read the short missive wrong.

It was, however, unmistakable.

_M.E., Tat. Chalmun’s. One day. Come alone._

Disregarding the fact that he had not heard from him in nearly a year, Poe is unsure what to expect at all. Last time he had spoken with his informant, the young man had looked troubled and burdened by the acts of cruelty he’d been forced to participate in to maintain his cover. Poe had feared that he had lost his mind, or blown said cover, when he hadn’t heard from him in such a long time, and receiving the message had been a breath of relief.

He’s unsure how long he’s supposed to wait for his source, but he’s resolved to remain on Tatooine for at least one day in standard rotation. There is, however, only so much time that he can spend away from D’Qar before people start asking questions—before the _wrong_ people start asking questions.

There are downsides to being the Resistance’s poster boy.

He keeps his head down as he enters the cantina through a small doorway on the side of the building, following the curved passage that leads into the main bar area. It is not the first time he’s been to this spaceport—or even this cantina—but he is a little overwhelmed by the boisterous atmosphere and the sheer amount of humanoids packed in the small space.

He bypasses the alcoves that are filled with tables, occupied by smugglers, bounty hunters and all sorts of unsavoury folk, and walks past the bandstand to follow the arc of the bar into the private back room.

Sliding onto a barstool, he offers the bartender a few credits in exchange for a small glass of liquor that smells vaguely like rocket fuel. He takes the shot, slamming the glass back down on the counter as he winces at the acidic taste and smell of the liquor. “Kriff,” he coughs, silently cursing himself for ordering such foul-tasting poison, before promptly gesturing for another shot.

So he’s a bit of a masochist—sue him.

The bartender gives him a toothy grin—that _terrifies_ him more than he’ll ever admit—and fills the tiny glass, accepting Poe’s credits before wandering off towards the other end of the bar, to where a Wookiee is yodelling for attention.

He takes just a sip of the shot this time, relishing in the way it burns the back of his throat and makes his eyes water just a little, before turning his attention to his mental checklist, making sure he hasn’t forgotten to arrange anything important. He has organised for one of the secret rooms to be available for them should they need to hide, or feel the need for more privacy than the back room would provide.

His shuttle—less conspicuous than his X-wing—is docked behind the cantina, in the open-air hangar, in case he’s required to make a quick getaway. That possibility is, unfortunately, not a remote one—it would not be the first time he’d been forced to flee a spaceport under blaster fire.

He grimaces as he downs the remainder of his cheap— _terrible_ —liquor, his thoughts straying to the man he’s waiting to meet again. So far, their mission is taking _far_ longer than either of them had anticipated—and Poe will readily admit that they’d been stupid teenagers that got themselves into trouble with _no_ clue how to get back out—and is _far_ more difficult than they’d thought, as well.

They’re both being watched constantly, as high-profile figures usually are, and in the first five years after setting the plan in motion, they’d not been able to meet at all. Poe hadn’t even known if his friend was alive or dead for most of that time.

The memory of those years is absolutely _agonising_ , and he much prefers not thinking about them at all, but he can’t seem to help himself. His family and their friends had suffered heavily after the devastating attack on Luke Skywalker’s new school, and Poe remembers his father comforting a devastated Luke Skywalker in their kitchen after the man had lost more than a few of his good friends on more than one occasion.  

He remembers the crushing guilt that had come along with witnessing those moments—guilt threatens to engulf him each time he had to tell another lie concerning the events leading up to the attack. He had only gotten through those moments by reminding himself that they had taken _every_ precaution they could in order to preserve as many lives as they could.

He would never have gone through with their—slightly ludicrous—plan if he’d thought there was another way to _save_ hundreds of thousands of lives.

He _still_ believes that the path they’d chosen to walk, while exceedingly difficult, is the right one.

And yet, despite their best efforts, innocent people _die_ every day, and there is nothing they can do to stop it—it makes him so _angry_ that his vision actually tints white when he thinks about it—and he hates feeling so _powerless_.

There is a light touch on his shoulder, and he blinks confusedly, drawing himself from his thoughts only to promptly have his breath taken away by the man standing behind him.

_“Ben.”_

Poe has always held an abstract awareness of his feelings for Ben Organa-Solo.

Even as a young child, there had been a certain recognition within his heart and mind that set little Ben apart from Poe’s other friends.

The feeling had remained consistent as the years passed, despite the distance that seemed to grow between them as they grew older. His father promised him that it was normal; that sometimes, friends drifted apart, no matter how badly you wanted to keep them close.

The thing is that it never felt like that for Poe.

Losing Ben felt like losing a part of himself, in a way that he couldn't quite describe to anyone but himself. The day Ben came back to him is still one of the happiest days of his life, despite the heart-breaking confessions the younger boy had made to him after following him into the house.

Despite the two of them devising a plan that would likely separate them for years, and the heartache they’d cause their friends and families by going through with the plan.

Ben raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a timid smile. “Drinking already? I haven’t even told you any of the bad stuff yet.”

Poe gapes at him for a moment longer before shaking himself—for Force’s sake, he’s behaving like a love-struck teenager—and patting the seat beside him in invitation. “I just didn’t expect you so soon,” he says honestly, aiming his most charming smile at his childhood best friend—it is a pretty kriffing charming smile, even if he does say so himself. “I was settling in for a long wait.”

Ben returns the smile, albeit hesitantly, as he slides onto the stool, raising a hand tiredly to wave the bartender over. The man pours two more shots of the rocket fuel liquor in exchange for a credit chip, and Poe watches with wide eyes as Ben downs both shots without even flinching.

“Are you alright?” He asks once he is sure no one will be able to overhear their conversation. He leans closer to Ben and slowly reaches out to touch the younger man’s arm—Ben’s been a little funny about being touched since he went undercover with the First Order—so that Ben can pull back if he needs to.

He doesn’t pull back, though Poe can feel Ben’s muscles rippling beneath his fingertips as he stiffens. “No,” Ben sighs after a short while, running his fingers across the rim of his glass. “I suppose I’m not.”

Poe swallows and draws his lower lip between his teeth before coming to the conclusion that Ben is never going to open up to him as he wants him to while they are still in public. “Come on,” he says, leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of whatever liquor he can get his hands on—he has a feeling they’ll need it—and tossing another credit chip on the bar. “Let’s go.”

He takes Ben’s hand and leads him through the invisible door in the side wall into the secret room he’d arranged for them. Poe can tell a burden falls from Ben’s shoulders the moment the hidden door slides shut behind them, and watches as Ben collapses onto the bed in the centre of the room.

The room is small, barely even worthy of the name ‘room’. The bed is so large it nearly takes up the entire space, and it is piled with surprisingly luxurious sheets and pillows. The walls are a dull, durasteel-grey, dented and scratched, worn with old age. All in all, Poe is relatively pleased with the price he’d paid to have this room available—it’s secret, cheap, and rather comfortable.

Perfect.

He returns his attention to Ben, who is now sprawled out across the large bed with his eyes shut and his arms stretched above his head. Poe’s mouth goes a little dry when he realises Ben’s shirt is a tad too short and has ridden up to expose part of Ben’s muscular abdomen and the little line of back hairs that tantalisingly leads down into Ben’s trousers.

He allows himself a moment to appreciate the outfit Ben had chosen to wear for their meeting—it differs every time and, while he has yet to see Ben dressed in something that does _not_ make him look positively _delicious_ , there is something about this particular set of clothes that gets his heart racing.

The off-white shirt and leather jacket accentuate his tall, muscular frame and, combined with the dark trousers, worn boots and leather belt clipped with his lightsaber and a blaster, it makes Ben look more like his father than Poe has ever seen him look before. It’s both arousing and disconcerting, and it makes Poe ponder whether or not his hero-worshipping crush on Han and Leia might be getting a tad out of hand.

Ben cracks one eye open to look at him, and Poe flushes a little when he realises Ben’s just caught him staring— _again_. He wishes he could say it’s not a frequent occurrence, but Poe is well-aware that he tends to go a little cross-eyed when faced with Ben Solo after they’ve spent time apart.

“You enjoying the view, Dameron?” Ben smirks, raising a single eyebrow at him—and _damn_ that man for making something as simple as a raised eyebrow look _hot_.

“Always,” Poe quips back, taking good care to sound smooth and self-confident—he is not a teenager with his first crush, Force damn it all. Ben may be the only person he’s ever been in love with, but they’re years past the honeymoon phase of their relationship—if what they have can be construed as a relationship in the first place.

A handful of clandestine meetings are hardly a solid base for a true relationship.

Their childhood friendship, eventually developing into something _more_ , is what keeps them together even now—feelings that run deep and strong, and that won’t dissipate regardless of the distance between them.

He’d been afraid that they would, when they first started _this_ —he’d been afraid of a lot of things.

.

.

.

**Ten Years Ago**

“I don’t think I like this idea anymore,” Poe drawls hesitantly, stretched out on Ben’s bed as he watches Ben meticulously pack away his meagre little collection of belongings. “What if Snoke doesn’t believe you? What if he tears your mind apart and _shatters_ everything that you are, Ben?” He doesn’t dare name the final reason for his sudden hesitance—it will do naught about the necessity of the plan.

He does not wish to dwell upon the thought of not seeing Ben for years, even so shortly before his departure.

“I won’t get caught,” Ben sighs, neatly folding his final shirt and placing it in the bag, before turning to face Poe. “Our plan is sound—you and I are the only ones that know of it. There is no way they’ll learn the truth, because it is too far-fetched to contemplate.”

Poe pushes out his lower lip in a small pout, but offers no other rebuttal—there is nothing _to_ say.

They’ve come this far; neither of them truly wants to give up now.

“I’m going to be fine,” Ben insists, sitting down on the bed beside Poe and reaching for his hand. “Snoke believes that I have slipped into the Dark—that your rejection is what pushed me over the edge. I know this is going to be difficult, and that it may take _years_ —but I need to finish what my grandfather started. I _will_ bring balance back to the Force.”

Poe offers a shaky nod and sits up, propping his chin on Ben’s shoulder as his free hand curls into Ben’s shirt, holding the taller boy to him. “I wish I didn’t have to let you go, yet,” he admits quietly. “Our friendship may have started years ago, but… I feel like I only just found you again.”

“You don’t have to let me go,” Ben reminds him, leaning into Poe’s touch. “I am ever yours—but you know as well as I do that in order for us to ever have a life together, we need to win this war. Sacrifices have to be made.” Instead of waiting for another protest to fall from Poe’s lips, Ben leans down to kiss him, pressing his warm, full lips against Poe’s.

As had happened with increasing frequency since their first kiss, the kiss grows heated and passionate within moments—Poe parts his lips beneath the pressure of Ben’s, and his tongue slides into his mouth, sliding against his own deliciously. They kiss for several moments before Poe groans against Ben’s lips, because the younger boy is _tempting_ him, and Poe finds himself more and more powerless to resist Ben’s enthusiasm.

“Ben,” he breathes. “Slow down.”

“No,” Ben mumbles stubbornly, tugging on Poe’s hair insistently until he relents and kisses him again, their tongues brushing together in a slow and steady rhythm. He finds himself getting too caught up in his feelings for Ben, and how much he _wants_ him, and how much he can’t _stand_ the thought of Ben leaving and putting himself in danger.

He gasps when Ben’s hand drifts between their bodies, fumbling with Poe’s shirt for a moment to get it untucked before he slips his hand beneath it, spreading his fingers against Poe’s stomach. “I don’t want to slow down, Poe,” Ben sighs. “I want _this_ —I don’t want to regret anything if this goes wrong and something happens to either of us.”

“Ben,” Poe groans against his lips, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. “ _Force_ , I don’t want it to happen like this, when we’re both so worried. Please, _slow down_.”

He reaches down and presses his hand to Ben’s, stopping his friend from unlacing his trousers. There’s a part of him that is screaming at him to just let it happen—to give into what they both want—but the larger part of him _knows_ that they’d regret it eventually if they do it like this.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Ben’s, attempting to catch his breath. He promptly fails when Ben scrapes his teeth over his earlobe—and this from the kid who had never even kissed anyone before two weeks ago—whispering, “Don’t you want me?”

Poe’s breath catches in his throat at the huskiness in Ben’s voice. “Kriff, Ben, you _know_ I do, bu—” He stutters, moaning softly when Ben rains soft kisses down his neck.

He takes a deep breath before resting his hands on Ben’s shoulders and pushing him back a little, clutching at his fragile self-control with all his might— _kriffing hell_ , one of them has to at least pretend to be an adult about this. “Ben,” he whispers, looking into his dark, expressive eyes. “I love you. And I want you more than you can imagine. But I don’t want it to happen like this.”

Ben’s expression is desperate and Poe can tell that he wants to argue, but eventually Ben relaxes and leans into Poe’s embrace. “I just…” he whispers, sliding his fingers in Poe’s curls again, “I’m _scared_ , Poe.”

“Me too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Ben’s hair. “Me too.”

.

.

.

Poe lets a deep, shuddering breath fall from his lips at the memory before he shakes himself and drops himself back on the bed as well.

He cannot deny that he is _still_ afraid; that there are nights he spends in his bunk, wide awake and wondering whether or not Ben would be awake; whether or not going through with the plan to use Snoke’s desire to have Ben as his Apprentice against him had been the _right_ decision.

Ben is quiet again, and when Poe turns to look at him again, he notices the dark circles that are etched beneath his eyes, and the overall pallor of his skin. Ben looks _unhealthy_ and _exhausted_ , and it worries Poe endlessly.

He has not forgotten the disaster that was their last meeting, over a year ago.

They’d met on Coruscant, in the Outlander Club on the lower levels. The club had been packed with all sorts of lowlifes and other beings, and the buzz of their conversation had been loud enough to ensure he and Ben would fly completely below the radar.

He had spent the better part of that meeting consoling a crestfallen and miserable Ben, who had been forced into killing a Resistance fighter when she tried to kill him.

They’d both known the woman from before, and it had been a heart-breaking conversation—Poe didn’t _blame_ Ben for striking her down; not really. He’d told Poe the entire story, and it sounded like he truly did not have another choice than to kill her to save himself and to maintain his cover.  

Before he’d been able to _tell_ Ben that he didn’t blame him—that he understood—a fight had broken out between a few of the patrons, and they’d been drawn into the brawl that evolved from it. Poe had been forced to flee the scene without Ben in order to avoid being arrested for fighting and being recognized as a deserter and a Resistance fighter.

He’d not heard from Ben for an entire _year_ after that encounter.

“What’s bothering you, Ben?” He asks quietly, reaching out to take Ben’s hand in his cautiously. He’d been afraid that Ben’s mercurial moods might get the better of him for years, but he’d never actually _seen_ physical proof that made him believe Ben was incapable of handling his role as a spy—not until now.

Ben looks _tired_ and _worn down_ and all Poe wants to do is wrap Ben up in his arms and hide him from the rest of the galaxy, and from everyone who wants a piece of him.

“The Starburst Project,” Ben whispers tightly, not giving any other indication of emotional turmoil. “ _General_ Hux has assured the Supreme Leader it will be finished within the next standard year.” Poe stomach sinks and dread coils in his gut as Ben continues. “It’ll be infinitely more powerful than the Death Star ever was, and there’s nothing I can do to stop its progress anymore. It’s a miracle I’ve not been caught, as it is. What if they—like Alderaan— _I can’t_ —” Ben sits up abruptly, choking off the end of his sentence as he buries his face in his hands, hunching over entirely as he lets out a quiet sob.

“Hey,” Poe moves to Ben’s side immediately, gripping the younger man’s shoulders. “Hey, this is why you and I are here, remember? We’re going to make sure Alderaan _never_ happens again.”

“How?!” Ben exclaims angrily, shoving Poe back harshly. “I can’t delay construction _more_ —they’ll know someone is trying to sabotage them, and it’ll only be a matter of time before my cover is blown! And _everything_ we’ve done will be for _nothing_ , because just destroying _that_ project won’t stop the First Order entirely!” His eyes are wide and _frightened_ and Poe’s heart _aches_ , because he never intended for it to be this _painful_.

“Okay,” he nods slowly, inching his way back towards his irate… _Boyfriend? Lover?_ “Okay, you’re right. It’s probably _not_ going to be that easy, and we’re going to have to make some tough choices—but we’re going to take this one step at a time, okay?”

He waits until Ben is looking at him again and reaches forward to take his hands in his own.

“So,” he smiles tightly, squeezing Ben’s hands lightly. “Let’s start at the beginning. Anything else you need to tell me about? Any information that I need to remember?”

Ben hesitates, and Poe can tell he’s still shaken—barely keeping himself together—so he offers Ben a soft smile as he leans back against the bed’s padded headboard, crossing his legs comfortably as he waits for Ben to start talking.

“There’s a senator,” he finally says, crawling closer to where Poe is seated. “He’s supported the First Order for a while now. I never mentioned him before because I didn’t know his name, but I heard Hux talking about him a few days ago.”

Poe draws his lip between his teeth and leans forward, committing every word that falls from Ben’s lips to memory as he reaches for his datapad to ensure a recording of the conversation is being made.

And while he still fiercely believes in the Republic and all that it stands for, it makes him feel absolutely hopeless to hear of the corruption and bribery that goes on within the senatorial ranks even now, _after_ they’d all seen what happened to the last corrupt Senate.

“His name is Erudo Ro-Kiintor,” Ben continues. “You’ll be able to prove his collusion with the First Order if you steal his ship’s navicomputer. It has _everything_ stored on it. Every meeting point, every transaction—all of it. It’s called the Hevurion Grace, and he’ll be entering the Uvoss System in three standards months; it’s your best shot at intercepting him.”

“Okay,” Poe nods, tapping the button on his datapad to stop the recording and alter Ben’s voice so it won’t be recognisable after it’s been edited. “Okay, this is good stuff, buddy. Thank you.”

Ben settles on the bed next to Poe, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to toe— _stars_ , does Ben not know what being this close _does_ to Poe?—as he takes one of Poe’s hands in his. “That’s all I have, really. The name and Starburst Project’s deadline. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more.”  

“No,” Poe shakes his head, swallowing thickly as he tugs their joined hands over to rest on his lap. “Don’t apologize, Ben. The intel you’ve given us in the past has helped _immensely_. _This_ intel is going to help us more than you know, okay? You’re doing a great thing.”

He chuckles humourlessly—Poe cannot fault him, there is little humour to be found in this situation—and rolls his head to the side to look at Poe. "It doesn’t feel like it, Poe. In fact, sometimes I’m quite sure I do more damage to the galaxy than I restore things as they rightfully should be."

“I don’t believe that, Ben,” Poe replies stubbornly—and though Ben’s immediate denial of his own heroic actions does not surprise him, the pure _self-loathing_ in Ben’s voice _does_. While Ben has had his fair few moments of despair and melancholy over the years—which is no more than understandable, given the things he has to go through to keep his cover intact on a daily basis—Poe’s never quite heard him sound _this_ desolate and frightened.

“Maybe you _are_ better off with someone else,” Ben whispers, eyes downcast and the corners of his lips turned down. “You deserve someone who’s not… _broken. Torn apart._ Maybe… Maybe Rey— _”_

Rey’s name invokes a torrent of emotions within Poe’s mind that are not at all appropriate for a meeting with his _boyfriend_. He’s known Rey for years—Luke had brought her to D’Qar shortly after the school on Yavin IV had been destroyed and Ben had gone undercover—and he’s caught himself thinking about her in less than appropriate ways quite a few times lately.

His  heart _sinks_ when he realises _this_ is what he’d been afraid of. He’d been waiting for Ben to try something like this, and he’s _terrified_ , because he doesn’t really know how to stop Ben from pushing him away. And so he does the only thing he can think of and kisses Ben, and he can _taste_ the desperation on Ben’s lips, _feel_ the urgency and agonised anguish in the way he touches him, and he _knows_.

He understands.

This is hardly the first time he and Ben had ended up in bed together, and Poe is well aware that Ben uses these brief, sparse, shared moments to cling to his sanity while he is back on the First Order Base. He knows that Ben _needs_ to ascertain that Poe is still there, _with_ him sometimes, and he doesn’t _mind_ letting Ben have his way with him.

He kisses Ben back, slipping his fingers in the taller man’s already tangled dark locks as Ben deepens the kiss, tugging on the lapels of Poe’s jacket until it slips from the pilot’s shoulders. It’s a messy kiss—all teeth and tongue—and Ben’s hold on Poe’s hair is _almost_ painful as Ben pulls his head back, mouthing his way down Poe’s throat with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

 _“Carajo_ ,” Poe curses, his heart pounding as he allows himself to get _lost_ in the sensation of _Ben_.

The world tilts alarmingly for a moment when Ben manoeuvres them onto the bed, his lips once again occupying Poe’s in a downright _filthy_ kiss. They grapple for control for a while, ripping off their shirts and feverishly attempting to unbutton trousers without breaking the kiss.

Poe groans, eyes rolling back in his head and blunt fingernails digging into Ben’s shoulders when Ben bites down on the skin just above his collarbone before soothing over the mark with his tongue.

“ _Ben_ ,” he whines, slipping his hands down Ben’s back to his bottom, pulling Ben’s hips down to grind on his and _stars_ —

“I love you,” Ben pants, teeth scraping against Poe’s earlobe as he grinds himself against Poe _painful_ hard-on. “I love you _too much_.” Poe wants to deny the words, tell Ben that he loves him just as much, if not more, and that it’s _never_ too much, but he’s _lost_ in _everything_ , and he almost can’t remember his own name, much less other words.

“I love you, too,” he chokes, just as Ben manages to shove his trousers down, curling his warm fingers around Poe’s erection, and Poe nearly comes on the spot.

“I miss you _so much_ ,” Ben croaks, and Poe’s heart nearly _shatters_ at the sound of _agony_ in Ben’s voice. It hurts more than anything else _ever_ would—knowing that Ben _misses_ him, and that he’s missing Ben, and that there’s nothing they can do to _change_ that right now.

“I’m right here,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in Ben’s hair as he presses kisses to his jaw. “I’m right here with you, Ben.”

Ben shudders, his eyes slipping shut for a short moment before he moves to straddle Poe’s legs, slipping his fingers between Poe’s and drawing their hands up until they’re resting above Poe’s head. “Keep them there,” Ben tells him, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide before he leans in for a slower, deeper kiss than before. Poe’s eyes flutter shut as Ben slides his tongue along his own in an erotic dance they’ve repeated hundreds of times and perfected over the past ten years.

 _Stars_.

The kiss grows more frantic and desperate, and Poe _knows_ Ben is trying to claim his territory. He supposes Ben must have caught a glimpse—if not more—of his _complicated_ feelings regarding Rey when he mentioned her name earlier. It would hardly be the first time it’s happened, and though he’s still uncertain as to how that works, Ben had once _promised_ him that he wouldn’t go looking into Poe’s head on purpose, and that’s all Poe really cares about.

He finds that, as Ben rakes his fingernails over Poe’s nipples and grinds their cocks against one another, he does not mind being marked as Ben’s one bit.

He cannot quite contain the whimper that falls from his lips, and he can feel Ben smile against his lips.

Ben’s hands skim down Poe’s chest, slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of Poe’s trousers and tugging them down impatiently. He can’t suppress a gasp when his erection is freed and arches into Ben’s touch when the younger man wraps his fingers around his length again.

Ben hums amusedly against his lips before breaking the kiss. “Someone’s excited,” he mutters, and Poe wants to smack—or kiss—that mischievous grin from Ben’s lips.

 “ _Joderse_ , Ben,” Poe groans, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Ben’s hair. “Get on with it, you scruffy-looking nerf herder.”

“Watch who you’re calling scruffy, _flyboy_ ,” Ben murmurs as he kisses his way down Poe’s chest, gazing up at Poe from beneath his lashes, lips pressing a kiss to the tip of Poe’s cock as he wraps his fingers around the base. Poe’s head falls back onto the pillow, relishing in the _delicious_ feel of Ben’s hands and lips on him again, moaning loudly as he tugs on Ben’s hair.

He’s _so close_ , teetering on the edge, his fingers tangled in Ben’s dark locks, when something akin to an explosion shakes the entire building.

He and Ben immediately jump off the bed, reaching for their blaster and lightsaber respectively as they approach the door cautiously. Poe clumsily pulls his trousers back up as they listen for anything other than the confused cries of those out in the bar, wincing as he tucks his still hard length back in his trousers after exchanging a less-than-amused glance with Ben.

“I know he’s here! Find him! _Dameron_! We know you’re here! Come out or we start shooting!”

Poe raises an eyebrow at the nearly unintelligible, but clearly threatening, exclamation, and exchanges a slightly worried glance with Ben. There had been a fair amount of people in the bar, and though at least half of them had been bounty hunters and crooks themselves, Poe would _never_ stand by and let them get hurt in his stead.

“ _Kriff!_ How did they find me?” he hisses, tossing his blaster down to pull his shirt back over his head and to slip his old jacket back over his shoulders.

He looks back at Ben to find the younger man already dressed—he probably used some kind of Force trick to get dressed faster, _kriff_ him—and armed. Ben merely grins at him when Poe raises a questioning eyebrow—usually Ben is the one trying to keep them _out_ of fights—and says, “Don’t pretend you weren’t going to storm in there to play hero the second you saw the opportunity to.”

Poe can’t quite suppress the sheepish grin that spreads across his lips—he _may_ have considered said course of action for a brief moment—and he shrugs at Ben. “I can’t actually stand by and let them shoot people in my place, Ben. It’s not—”

“—who you are,” Ben finishes, rolling his eyes fondly. “Yes, I’m well aware, _flyboy_.”

Poe draws his lower lip between his teeth to hide his grin and offers, “You love me.” He barely has a chance to register Ben’s response before the taller man has yanked him closer for a deep, heady kiss, their teeth clacking together as Ben licks his way into Poe’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Ben pants when he pulls back, leaving Poe feeling slightly dazed and turned on all over again. “I really do. Now you're going to get to your shuttle and fly off this giant dust ball of a planet, and let me handle the bounty hunters.”

Poe blinks at Ben, rather taken aback by the authoritative tone in his voice, unlike anything he’s ever heard from his lover before—something quite akin to what he must sound like as Kylo Ren.

Unyielding and confident that his demands will be met.

“Ben,” he whispers, tightening his grip on Ben’s arms—he doesn't want to leave Ben like this, doesn't need Ben to say anything to know he's barely keeping it together—and shakes his head. “No, I—”

Ben glares at him as he claps his hand across Poe’s lips to stifle his protests. “ _Listen to me_ —Hux sent them. I can't risk them getting their hands on you, Poe. If Hux finds you, I won't be able to protect you.”

The fact that there's a bounty for his head out there is hardly surprising, but it's the first time Ben has actually explicitly implicated the First Order, and panic claws at Poe’s insides as he stares up at him. “You didn't think to _tell_ me the First Order is sending bounty hunters after me?!”

Ben levels him with a deadpan glare and snorts, “The moment you accepted the position of Black Leader you became a target, Poe. It's hardly a surprise.”

Poe swallows thickly, shaking his head to rid himself from other ludicrous thoughts and nods. “Right.”

He steps away from Ben and reaches for his blaster again, eyeing his friend cautiously. “Don't let another year go by, okay? Talk to Rey if you can't get away again so soon, I understand, but…” He trails off self-consciously and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I worry about you. I don't like that you're all alone on that base any more than I did when we started this.”

He has, admittedly, no clue how Rey and Ben have managed to find each other through the Force and manage to communicate—he remembers Luke grumbling about the unexpected development for a fair amount of time when Rey first told them, though—despite the fact that they'd never even met in person before, and still hadn’t.

He’s learned not to question Ben when it comes to matters of the Force, though.

It's a comforting thought to know Ben has someone to reach out to if he needs to, even if it's not Poe.

He flashes Ben the cockiest grin he can manage—it is pretty damn cocky, he’s sure—and curls his fingers around his blaster. “We’re going to do this?” His heart squeezes and quite nearly skips a beat when Ben grins back at him, his eyes twin pools of dark, melted chocolate— _there_ ’s the man he loves. He can feel adrenaline rushing through his veins, and it’s making him feel slightly lightheaded, despite the fact that his entire body is humming with anticipation.

“Let me go first,” Ben tells him. “Slip out when they’re distracted so they don’t see you.” And though Poe nods and _understands_ why Ben is telling him to stay back, he is practically _vibrating_ with restrained energy and nervous anticipation. He watches as Ben adjusts his clothes to look less like they’d been rolling around on the bed—which they _had_ , but he couldn’t actually tell them that—and more like they’d been fighting, before he reaches for the access panel to open the door and slip out.

“Wait.” He curls his fingers around Ben’s wrist and pulls him back from the panel a little as he leans up onto his toes to press a final kiss to Ben’s lips, curling his fingers in the soft hair on the back of Ben’s neck. “I’m going to find a way to help you,” he says quietly, “You are _not_ alone in this.”

The look in Ben’s eye—fear, concern and _hope—_ nearly _shatters_ his heart, and he wishes they had more _time_ , that they would’ve been able to spend more than half an hour together before getting interrupted _again_. “I love you, Ben,” he declares seriously, pressing his hands to Ben’s cheeks as he says it. “Don’t let go of that.”

Ben nods, but Poe can already see him withdraw emotionally, wordlessly slipping into the role of Kylo Ren before he gently pushes Poe back and takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t speak again, but the look he gives Poe before he steps outside, his lightsaber crackling to life, speaks volumes, and makes him feel _warm_ and _loved_. He leans back against the door when it slides shut behind Ben, shutting his eyes as he listens to Ben—no, _Kylo Ren_ —rampage in the bar.

“You incompetent _fools_! Your distraction caused the pilot to slip right through my trap!”

The sound of terrified cries and a lightsaber cutting through metal sends a cold shiver of fear down his spine, despite the fact that he _knows_ it’s Ben in there, and that Ben is doing this to protect _him_. He’s never actually had to _see_ Ben as Kylo Ren before, and he’s slightly ashamed to admit that he doesn’t _want_ to either.

“Get it together, Dameron,” he scolds himself, refusing to linger on that train of thought. “Time to go.”

He takes another deep breath and readies his blaster, keeping it raised, with his finger on the trigger as he slips through the door, barely casting a glance in the direction of the Cantina’s back room before he sprints down the narrow hallway that leads towards the open-air hangar.

It’s almost ridiculously easy to get to his shuttle, and he’s just strapped himself into the pilot’s seat when a couple of male Rodians emerge from the same corridor he’d taken and start shouting and firing at him and the shuttle, making enough of a ruckus to draw the attention of every sentient being in two visvias.

Poe groans and slams his head back against the headrest as he maneuvers the shuttle out of the hangar and into the air, into a small squadron of TIE-fighters. 

He knows he can outmaneuver them—they don’t call him the Best Pilot in the Resistance for nothing—but _this is not how he wanted to be spending his day._  

“I _knew_ I’d be fleeing under blaster fire again,” he grumbles. “ _Stang it_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An amazing thank you to Meaghan, who has literally DRAGGED me through writing this chapter and the more difficult parts. I have no idea how long this is going to be, nor how frequent updates will be. 
> 
> I do want to thank everyone who's left a comment and/or kudos :D You're all awesome! 
> 
> Love, Annaelle


	3. Chapter Two - Antidote to Uncertainty

# Chapter Two  
Antidote to Uncertainty

## “The mistake is thinking that there can be an antidote to the uncertainty.”  
 ―[David Levithan](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11664.David_Levithan)

**POE**

The Jedi Temple on D’Qar is known to very few, and visited by even fewer people.

Its location is, despite or even because of its secrecy, a miraculously beautiful place—so peaceful and quiet and remote that it almost feels like one of those uninhabited planets with hidden treasure caves Poe used to read about in holobooks and cheesy romance novels. Of course, at the time he had always been engrossed in whatever romantic relationship featured in the story, but with time, the memory of those over-exaggerated and unrealistic relationships faded, and all that remained was the astonishing way the writers had managed to capture the empyreal beauty of nature.

The Temple—built by Luke, the other Jedi Knights, Padawans, and even the Younglings upon their arrival on D’Qar—lies hidden behind a small, ethereal blue lagoon and a waterfall, surrounded by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of different kinds of plants and trees in every shade of green, brown, and yellow that Poe could possibly imagine. The lake bed is dotted with bright splashes of color, flowers that grow tall and beautiful, with scents so sweet it makes him dizzy at times.

There is a sense of tranquility to this part of the planet that soothes Poe’s overactive mind and, even when Luke and Rey aren’t there, he’d find himself seeking out the shelter of the Temple.

Given that the Temple is a fair few visvias from the Resistance Base on D’Qar, Poe usually uses the speeder he and Rey had rebuilt from old scraps a few years ago to get there, and sneaks into the Temple through a side entrance that no one else knows exists. Luke had done most of the construction work for that side of the Temple himself, and he had built in a secondary, _secret_ , escape route as a failsafe, should they ever be required to make another quick getaway.

It had pained Poe, at first, to know how badly Ben’s _betrayal_ had impacted Luke’s life—to see how the man had become more cynical and serious than he had been before, though the edge of playfulness and kindness never truly disappeared from Luke’s personality.

Case in point: Luke still trusted him enough to allow Rey to spend time with him, despite knowing how close he and Ben had been before Ben joined the First Order.

And that had been _before_ Poe came clean and confessed the entire sordid affair to Luke.

Rey had been nine when the Force Ghost of her great-uncle, a man named Obi-Wan, appeared to Luke to inform him of his niece, forcefully abandoned on a desert planet named Jakku. Poe had never quite gotten the specifics, nor did he fully understand them, and all he knew was that Luke had left for a week and had returned with little Rey in tow.

The Temple had still been under construction then, and the Jedi had been staying in an empty wing of the Resistance Base, so Poe had seen quite a lot of Rey back then. She’d been precocious and tiny, even for a nine-year-old, too smart for her own good, and Poe’s fairly certain that he never stood a chance when it came to being her friend.

The first time he met her, Luke had brought her to see the X-wings and droids.

He’s not entirely certain _how_ , but Rey had managed to slip away from Luke and found BB-8 while Poe was busy working on his X-wing, and befriended his little droid, who’d hurried to introduce [Little-Friend Rey] to him immediately, before Luke had found them and took Rey back to the Jedi Wing of the Base.

After that, he almost couldn’t get rid of her.

She wanted to know _everything_.

She _still_ wants to know everything.

He's long stopped feeling annoyed about being followed around by a curious nine-year-old though, not in the least because said nine-year-old is now a smart, strong and beautiful seventeen-year-old, who has learned when the right time to bother him is—who he regards as his closest friend besides Ben.

He refuses to dwell upon the _other_ things she makes him feel—after all, he's in love with Ben, and he's loyal to Ben, and no matter what Rey does or who she will become, Poe can't see himself consciously _hurt_ Ben like that—by doing the thing he _knows_ Ben is most afraid of.

He is not going to _let_ himself fall in love with someone else—he doesn't even think he really _could_.

He shakes himself, chancing one more furtive glance towards the front entrance to the Temple, hidden behind the thunderous rush of the waterfall, before pushing his hands into his pockets and wading through the shallow underbrush that surrounds the lagoon, headed towards the side entrance. While the Temple is built into a cave that runs deep into the planet’s surface, there is part of it above ground, concealed by a large, natural rock formation covered in smooth evergreen leaves and plump berries.

He pokes one of the berries, tempted to try one to see if it’s ripe enough to eat, but the memory of eating bad berries with Rey two summers ago and spending three weeks grounded because of a severe case of food poisoning is enough to still his hand. Instead, he presses his hand down on the hidden lever and slips through the door when it opens with a loud croak.

The hallway is silent and unlit, but it hardly bothers Poe.  

He’s walked this way so many times in the past few years that he knows every nook and cranny—every loose, overturned stone—and he could walk the route to Luke’s private room in his sleep. He pushes his hands back into his pockets and starts walking, silently scolding himself for avoiding the issue that brought him here in the first place.

Poe is far from a coward, nor does he like to consider the fact that he tends to avoid any sort of discussion concerning his own emotional and mental state—he's all too aware of the fact that they'll ground him if he shows any sort of indication of being emotionally compromised—but he _knows_ he will have to learn how to trust Luke with his thoughts and feelings. The Jedi always has Poe’s best interests at heart, even when Poe himself doesn't, and Poe _knows_ Luke will not judge him.

It is still terrifying.

But, in spite of being absolutely terrified, Poe knows he’ll tell Luke everything—he prides himself on being brave and strong, and he refuses to let Ben be the only one fighting bravely in this war.

He recalls the first time he'd confided in Luke, nearly two years after Ben had disappeared.

When he looks back on it now, Poe is surprised by how long he managed to keep his and Ben’s secret, and by how long he had faith that things were still going according to plan, even though he had not heard from Ben since the night of the attack on the Temple.

Luke had, understandably, been stunned to find a frantic and close-to-tears Poe Dameron on his doorstep two years after Ben disappeared, but it was  the look on his face when Poe divulged the details of their idiotic scheme to him that haunts Poe to this day. He hadn’t seen Luke after the destruction of the Temple on Yavin IV, but his father had told him Luke had spent hours crying over lost comrades and Knights in their kitchen—Poe had never _wanted_ to see Luke cry.

But he had when Poe finished talking.

“You _stupid, stupid_ boy,” Luke had groused through his tears, dragging Poe into his arms to hug him. “What were you _thinking?_ ”

Telling Luke had been the smartest thing he'd ever done, easing the immense burden Poe carried on his shoulders, and allowed him to gain a fresh and less biased perspective when he'd needed one.

When Rey had figured it out after eavesdropping on him and Luke, now two years ago, his burden had lessened further, and Poe feels like a total son of a bantha for not considering the strain Ben was under before. While Poe has plenty of support now, Ben is still in the same position Poe had been in ten years ago, and Poe can't blame him for starting to crack under the continued pressure.

A lesser man might have broken long ago.

While Poe knows Ben still has him, and occasionally Rey, to speak to, it is not even close to the kind of support Poe knows Ben _needs_ —the blatant infrequency and briefness of their rendezvous barely allowing Poe to offer him any true sort of support other than a few whispered reassurances. He’s also well aware that their tendency of simply falling into bed with one another without addressing any of the things that bother them is far from beneficial to either of them, but he can never bring himself to _stop_.

He slows to a stop in front of Luke’s door, the light that streams out from beneath it making him smile a little, and he immediately feels more at ease. He knows Luke felt him approach the moment he landed on D’Qar, but he does appreciate the older man’s sense to give him some time to gather his thoughts.

He has no intention of being caught thinking about his sex life with Luke’s nephew again—having the elder Jedi attempting to give him the talk of the birds and the bees just _once_ had been mortifying enough—he has no desire of reliving the experience. Luke has pointed out, more than once, that Poe’s thoughts and emotions regarding Ben tend to resonate rather loudly through the Force, causing nothing but awkwardness and embarrassment for both him and Luke.

Luke seems perfectly content to pretend that Poe and Ben haven’t been screwing like a pair of felinxes in heat, and Poe is more than content to allow the older man said delusion.

Finally, Poe manages to shove his less than savoury thoughts about Ben and his delightfully talented mouth to the far, dark corners of his mind, reminding himself of the fact that he is only here right now to discuss the details of Ben’s information with Luke before he talks to Leia, and to ask the older man for advice in order to _help_ Ben, in any way that he can.

Before he can enter Luke’s chambers, the door hisses open and the man in question appears in the doorway, eyeing Poe in amusement, a single eyebrow raised. He is clearly dressed for the night already, in threadbare grey linen trousers and a beige tunic that has clearly seen better days as well. Poe’s eyes are, as usual, drawn to the man’s durasteel arm, admiring the fine piece of high-technological machinery, before he manages to look up at Luke’s face.

“Were you planning to come in at all tonight?” Luke asks, a small grin playing at the edges of his lips, hidden slightly by his bushy grey beard. “Or would you prefer to brood in the hallway for a bit longer?”

Poe barely manages to suppress a snort and shakes his head. “Just making sure I’m not thinking of anything that might make you blush,” he smirks, moving into the room when Luke rolls his eyes and steps to the side to let him in.

Despite having seen Luke’s personal quarters numerous times over the years, Poe is still caught off guard by how _empty_ and _sparse_ the room is, with a single bed covered with simple sheets pushed up against the far wall, a modestly-sized chest seated beside it, and two mats on the floor that Poe knows are used for meditation.

He’s heard Rey complain about ‘those bloody thin little pieces of straw’ often enough to know that they don’t offer much protection against prolonged exposure to the cold stone floors.

He does not, however, offer up complaint when Luke sits on one of the mats and follows the Master Jedi’s example, settling cross-legged on the straw mat across from Luke as he tries to decide which issue to address first—his personal concerns, or the information Ben had given him.

“How fares my nephew?” Luke asks calmly, before he can say anything. Though Luke’s outward appearance is that of practiced calm and ease, Poe knows the other man well enough to see that he is truly anxious to hear the answer.

It is, sadly, sometimes a little too easy for Poe to forget he is not the only one that still cares for Ben’s wellbeing, and that he is not alone in wanting their plan to succeed.

“Not as well as he should, I’m afraid,” Poe sighs, running his fingers through his messy mop of curls. “I worry for him. He seems…” He hesitates and shrugs. “ _Rattled_. Unhinged, even. I don’t know how to help him, Luke, not while I’m here and he’s there, by himself—”

He breaks off and looks away, unobtrusively taking a moment to regain control over himself. He’s not lost his temper over Ben’s situation this easily in _years_ , but he has not been as worried as he is today in years either, and he’s certain Luke can sense that as well.

There had been a darkness in Ben that he had not sensed before, and now that he looks back upon it, it seems like an insurmountable task to save Ben from himself.

Fear still claws at his insides as he looks up at the older man, and his heart is pounding, high up in his throat, constricting his breathing even as he attempts to calm himself down. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages, shaking himself. “That was—I’m worried, Luke. There’s something _different_ about him now, and I’m not sure what it is. What if we’re losing him?”

Luke’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, the weight of it comforting and familiar, and he leans into the soothing touch subconsciously, allowing Luke’s calm and steady presence to reassure him.

“Ben is strong,” Luke intones steadily. “Have faith in him.”

“I _do_ ,” Poe snaps, looking up at Luke’s sage visage as the elder man lets his hand slip off of Poe’s shoulder. “I believe in him more than _anyone_ else does, Luke.”

Luke winces at the rather crude dig, and Poe draws his lower lip between his teeth for a moment as he once again reins in his temper. He sighs and bows his head down low before he addresses Luke again, calmer and far more formal than before. “I apologise. That was uncalled for.”

Luke does not respond to him at all for a long, tense moment before Poe feels the Jedi Master’s cold, metal fingers on his jaw, gently tilting his head up to see a kind smile gracing Luke’s lips. “We are far past these formalities, Poe,” Luke tells him affectionately, warm eyes dancing with amusement. “I understand you are under a lot of pressure. Tell me why you are so concerned over my nephew’s mental health. What happened?”

“He’s unravelling,” Poe admits reluctantly. “The things he has to do are catching up with him, and I… I fear he might not be able to rationalise things on his own… He’s never been—the Machete Project _frightens_ him, and the idea of recruiting _children_ for the Knights makes him feel _sick_ … I don’t know how much more he can take without someone to help him deal with it.”

He meets Luke’s pensive gaze and adds, “I can’t let him do this by himself anymore, Luke.”

Luke is silent for a moment before he heaves a sigh and runs his mechanical fingers through his hair. He looks tired, and older than Poe ever recalls him looking before, but his blue eyes are sharp and his expression is thoughtful. “I admit I have felt an upset in the Force,” he replies cautiously, measuring his words carefully before he speaks them aloud. “Ben’s Force Presence is so strong it is not difficult to believe that it was, in fact, his turmoil that I felt. I _am_ more attuned to our family.”

Poe leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he considers all that he had learned from his past meetings with Ben. “There’s something,” he divulges. “Something he’s not telling me. I don’t know _why_ he’d be keeping something from me, but I feel there’s far more to it than what he’s told me so far.”

He can tell his words are a surprise to Luke, whose eyes widen a fraction before he schools his expression into something carefully neutral. “Perhaps he believes it is of no true consequence,” Luke offers, though it is a hollow suggestion and they both know it.

“Even so,” Poe shakes his head after considering it shortly. “I’m losing him. I don’t know if it’s the Dark Side or Snoke, or something else, but he’s slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Luke frowns thoughtfully, stroking his fingers across his beard. They sit in silence for a moment, and Poe watches uncomfortably as Luke’s eyes slip shut, unsure of whether the older man is _that_ tired or just meditating—he knows Luke well enough to know both are viable options. Rather than disturb Luke, Poe looks down at his hands, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he carefully pulls a chain from beneath his shirt—something he does often to comfort and calm himself.

On the chain dangles a simple ring, made of Alderaanian gold, that Ben had given him hours before he and the Knights of Ren attacked the Temple. The ring is a family heirloom—one of the few pieces of jewellery Leia Organa had managed to save after Alderaan’s destruction—that Ben’s mother had bestowed upon him when Luke came to take him to the Temple at age ten.

A simple reminder that his family would always be out there, waiting for him and loving him.

The fact that Ben had given it to _him_ had meant the world to Poe—and it still does. He cherishes that he is able to carry this small, physical reminder of Ben’s love, and that Ben trusted—t _rusts_ —him enough to leave him with an heirloom of this magnitude.

“Curious.”

Poe looks up when Luke suddenly speaks, tucking the ring back into his shirt as he turns his inquisitive gaze on the Jedi Master, whose eyes are once again opened and focused on him.

“What is?” he asks.

“Ben’s Force Signature has not been tainted by Darkness,” Luke says, brow furrowed. “It lingers around him, shrouding his Presence from the Light, but it has not actually touched nor consumed him.”

Poe stills, eyes widening in surprise as he stares at Luke. “Are you sure?”

Luke shakes his head sadly. “No. It is difficult to tell at this distance, and things are—” He pauses, a little crease forming between his eyebrows as he searches for the correct words. “Clouded,” he finally nods. “He is surrounded by those that _are_ Dark, and their Darkness is slowly affecting him as well.”

Poe leans forward, eager to grasp onto any sort of good news that he can, and offers Luke a hopeful smile. “But you could be right? He’s not falling to the Dark Side?”

“It appears not,” Luke replies distractedly as he runs his fingers through his hair again. “I do sense great conflict within him, as you said. I suppose it would be unwise to do nothing to help him.”

“How do we do that?” Poe asks, straightening up once again as he pushes his legs out in front of him to stretch out the slight ache in his legs after sitting cross-legged for a while. Luke is silent as Poe stretches, but Poe can sense that his question has rattled Luke just a little, and it’s enough to make him realise that the older man has _no idea_ how to help Ben either.

He can’t deny that thought frightens him even more.

He’s drawn from his thoughts when Luke chuckles exasperatedly, turning to see Rey sulking in the doorway, a sheepish grin on her lips as their eyes meet. “Hi.” She waves her hand a little, waiting until Luke has gestured for her to come inside and to settle on the mat beside Poe, close enough for their legs to press together from hip to knee—for the warmth of her skin to seep into his.

“Hey Birdie,” he offers with a small smile, feeling the tense and dejected atmosphere dissipate a little when she wrinkles her nose at the old nickname, shoving at his shoulder lightly before she smiles—brightly and toothily—her cheeks dimpling adorably as her hair continues to slip from the braid he had put it in three days ago, before he had left to meet with Ben.

“I take it you heard all of that, my little Padawan?” Luke raises an eyebrow at Rey, who looks appropriately chastised for being caught eavesdropping on their _very_ private conversation.

“I did,” she admits, blushing prettily as she presses her shoulder against Poe’s, almost as though she wants to hide herself behind him to avoid Luke’s possible lecture and punishment. “I have an idea though,” she offers quickly, curling her fingers around Poe’s upper arm as she leans forward to grin at Luke. “Only if you don’t mind, though,” she adds hurriedly as she turns towards Poe, her eyes wide and sincere as she looks up at him.

“Of course not,” he breathes, feeling slightly dazed. “I’m open to suggestions, because I—I have _nothing_.”

The smile she offers him in response is breathtaking and he barely manages to catch himself before his fingers curl around an errant lock of hair that had fallen free of its braid—his hand had moved almost as if of its own volition, without any sort of conscious thought guiding it. Luckily, he catches himself before the move would have been too obvious, and Rey moves to guide the lock of hair behind her ear herself before she turns back to Luke to begin her explanation.

For a moment he is still too preoccupied to hear her words, eyes drawn to the way her full lips curve around the words she speaks, before he shakes himself and glances up towards Luke as well. The elder Jedi is staring at him intently, blue eyes sharp and intent on his, almost as though he can look straight into Poe’s mind and—oh _kriff._

 _He can see straight into Poe’s mind_.

Poe stares at Luke with more than a small sense of trepidation—getting caught lusting after the Jedi’s _seventeen-year-old_ Padawan while also intimately involved with said Jedi’s nephew _cannot_ be good for his health—before the man raises an eyebrow at him, softening his entire expression into something akin to understanding.

He can tell Luke is not _angry_ with him, but there is a tightness in the man’s expression that tells him the elder man isn’t entirely happy with him either.

Luke’s steely blue gaze lingers on Poe’s for a few moments longer, and Poe finds himself utterly unable to look away from the Jedi Master, even as his awareness grows to once again include Rey, who is nearly bouncing in excitement beside him, fingers of one hand curled in his jacket sleeve as she gestures wildly with her other hand. “—so the only way we could get someone else to Ben would be to let people believe they’d defected to the First Order as well.”

Poe blinks at her as his brain attempts to catch up. “We can't spare anyone else,” he blurts without thinking. “No one even knows about this but the three of us and Ben.” He cannot hide the tendril of despair that slices through him as the words fall from his lips, and both Jedi wince before Rey reaches out and catches his hand in hers, resting their entwined fingers on his thigh.

“I could do it,” she says softly after a short silence. “I _should_ do it.”

His heart constricts painfully as she utters the words, panic searing through his mind, though he is not wholly surprised by them—not as surprised as he supposes he should be. There had been a part of him that had expected her to offer to do something for some time now, and he can’t truly bring himself to feel anything but _fear_ at the proposition.

He can’t imagine having to go through everything he went through with Ben with Rey as well.

“Rey, that is not an option,” Luke speaks up sternly, snapping Poe from his thoughts once again and compelling them both to look up at him merely by the tone of his voice. “This is _dangerous_. I am not willing to lose another Padawan to the First Order and this infernal war.”

“I agree,” Poe nods as Rey opens her mouth to offer protest. She glares at him when he speaks up, but he persists, reluctantly tearing his gaze from Rey’s to look at Luke once again. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t send Rey in, but—” he breaks off, breath catching in his throat as his mind supplies one too many reasons for the plan to _fail_.

He struggles for breath for a few moments longer, shaking his head in a rather desperate attempt to rid himself of such negative—and disturbingly _rational_ —thoughts.

“—I can do it,” he finally says, looking up at Luke with the same kind of determination and defiance that has been known to get him into trouble a time or two—or ten. “Ben needs me there, and he’ll vouch for me. Snoke already knows we were… _involved_ before Ben left—I can play it out like I changed my mind, like Ben somehow managed to get me to change my mind.”

He sounds desperate even to himself, and he’s most definitely a good enough strategist to realise there are far too many risks attached to this hare-brained scheme—if a subordinate were to come to him with a plan such as this one, he’d never approve it, and he is _painfully_ aware of that fact.

“Never mind,” he mutters as he shakes his head, dragging his palm over his forehead. “Foolish idea.”

“Poe,” Luke’s voice is soft and kind, and Poe knows Luke would never judge him for his _attachment_ to Ben, but he is still afraid to look up at Ben’s uncle—afraid to see the disapproval in Luke’s steely blue eyes, to be forced into admitting that this plan has very little chance of success and that he will likely not be able to help Ben at all, even if he _did_ manage to get into the First Order.

“No one would believe it,” Rey intercedes, tightening her fingers around his briefly.

He looks up at her incredulously, somewhat surprised to find her looking at him with a kind smile. “You’re the Resistance’s poster boy,” she tells him sweetly. “People won’t believe you for a second—you’re a terrible liar, and you’ve been more than a little vocal about your opinion of the First Order in the past.”

Poe bristles a little at the implication that he’s a bad liar—he is _not_ —but Rey soothes her thumb across the back of his hand and his ire tapers off, much to his consternation.

“I know this is a dangerous plan,” she continues, eyeing him for another moment before turning her gaze upon Luke. “But please, Master, hear me out. I _have_ thought about this.” There is a kind of tension between Master and Padawan that Poe has never sensed between them before, and it makes him wonder if this is not the first time Rey has attempted to broach the subject with Luke.

Finally, Luke inclines his head and Rey smiles, her relief _so_ palpable that even Poe can feel it.

“Your Knights are too loyal,” she begins, addressing Luke with a shy smile. “If one of them deserted, the Knights of Ren would sense their deception immediately, because of their close Bonds with the rest of the Order. A Padawan, however,” she grins slyly and Poe’s heart sinks a little, because he has seen her smile like that before and it never bodes well for him.

“My loyalty has not been cemented yet,” she continues. “I was abandoned as a child, lived on a desert planet for three years, where I had to fight for my right to survive every day—”

Poe winces, and from the corner of his eye he can see Luke do the same. Rey had never gone into detail about the three years she’d spent on Jakku before Luke found her, but Poe knew enough about the planet from his classes back in the Academy to know it had been far from pleasant—he had just not thought it would have been that bad.

“I have a temper,” she smiles wryly, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as Luke glares at her, despite the amused grin that tugs on the older man’s lips. “And my attachment to you,” she turns to Poe, a blush rising high on her cheeks, “is a fairly public secret. There’s also my Bond with Ben—it may not be very strong, but it’s there, and I have no doubt Snoke knows of its existence as well.”

Luke’s nose wrinkles in disapproval at the mention of the Bond, but he remains quiet, his forehead wrinkled as he takes in what Rey is saying.

“With my background as a slightly hot-headed, overly emotional, former scavenger girl,” Rey offers shakily, “there’s not a single person who _wouldn_ _’_ _t_ believe I fell to the dark side. If we play our cards right, we can easily fabricate a story—something public enough that even the spies within the Resistance would hear of it and corroborate it when I do join the First Order.”

Something about that sits uneasily with him, and he finds he doesn’t like the way she speaks of her 'fall to the dark side' as though it’s an inevitability rather than part of a hypothetical plan. “Who talks to you like that?” he demands, pressing his fingers against her cheek gently so she’ll look at him. “This doesn’t sound like a logical argument—someone _told_ you those things. Who was it?”

Rey gapes a him, her eyes wide and startled—and slightly glassy with tears.

“Rey.” Luke leans forward, touching his hand to hers gently and causing her gaze to snap away from Poe’s rather abruptly. He watches, a little stunned still, as Luke gently draws her closer and into his arms. Rey goes willingly, resting her head against Luke’s shoulder as she had so many times when she was younger—Poe recalls several instances in which Rey had completely tired herself out to the point she couldn’t walk back to the Temple and Luke had had to carry her.

“Talk to me, little one,” Luke whispers tenderly as he rubs his hand up and down her back.

Rey sobs drily against Luke’s shoulder, as if she has no more tears for this, and Poe’s heart clenches at the pained sound. He’s overcome by a burning desire to hunt down whoever had talked down to Rey as such; to make them _regret_ their cruel words and to make them _choke_ on said words. Before he realizes it, he is halfway to his feet and Luke’s durasteel hand has latched onto his wrist, keeping him grounded.

Poe sees his own rage reflected in Luke’s eyes, and for the first time he senses that he and the Jedi are truly on the same page regarding one of their loved ones.

“I overheard some of the Knights,” Rey finally mutters, stubbornly pressing her forehead against Luke’s collarbone so as to avoid looking at them. “They didn’t know I was there—I was simply practicing my shielding technique… And then I heard them—”

Her voice breaks again and she begins sobbing in earnest, curling her slim fingers in her Master’s tunic as though he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Poe feels, quite suddenly, like he is observing a private moment—Rey and Luke are, of course, Master and Padawan, but Poe knows their connection runs far deeper than that. To Rey, Luke is the father she never got to know—the man who saved her from a lifetime of scavenging—and the closest thing to actual family she will ever have.

The Ghost of her deceased great-uncle hardly counts, in Poe’s opinion.

“What did they say, little one?” Luke’s voice is still soft and calm, but there is anger in his eyes when he looks up to meet Poe’s gaze with his own, and Poe sees his own outrage mirrored beneath Luke’s outwardly calm façade. He knows that Luke will do everything in his power to find out which of his Knights had been bad-mouthing his Padawan and to offer them appropriate sanction.

“That I wouldn’t make a good Jedi,” Rey admits quietly, slowly sitting up and pulling herself from Luke’s arms. “Because I love you and Poe and Leia, and that the only reason you’ve kept me around so long is because I’m a Kenobi—because _abuelo_ Obi-Wan trained you—and that they wouldn’t be surprised if the little scavenger from Jakku eventually fell to the dark side.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Poe blurts, a frown rippling across his forehead as he considers that. “Love is a _good_ thing—how could it lead to something as perverted as the dark side?”

Luke shakes his head, offering Poe a wry smile. “Many of the elder Masters were there to see Anakin—my father—fall to the dark side because of his love for my mother. Others heard of Obi-Wan’s inability to kill him because of his love for Anakin. Love _is_ capable of making people turn to the dark side, but I admit it is quite short-sighted of them to assume all sorts of love leads to the dark side. After all, it was his love for you that kept Ben from falling, was it not?”

Poe grins sheepishly and bites his lip as Luke smirks at him, before nodding curtly. “It’s short-sighted, yes,” he replies slowly, “but when you take the past into consideration, it is not completely unreasonable.”

“It isn’t,” Rey says softly, drawing his attention back to her and to her eyes, red-rimmed and still filled with tears. “I understand why they’re wary of me— _abuelo_ Obi-Wan has told me much about Anakin Skywalker. I seem to share more characteristics with him than just my tendency to attachments. We both joined the Order at the age of nine, were both rescued from desert planets run by Hutts, both taken in by a Master who only did so at the behest of their own former Master…”

She trails off and gives Luke a weak smile. “I know you love me, Master, as _abuelo_ loved Anakin, but I also know you only chose me as your Padawan because I am his grand-niece. I can’t blame them for being wary of me. I would be as well, if I were someone else.”

Before either Poe or Luke gets the chance to say something, Rey continues. “Of course, their mistrust of me makes me the perfect candidate for the part. My background already suggests I’ll be more susceptible to falling—with the right trigger, no one will think to question it.”   

Poe feels a little sick when she lays it all out as such, logically with well-thought-out arguments.

“I assume you’ve already thought of an appropriate trigger too?” Luke deadpans, raising an eyebrow at his Padawan, even as a soft—proud—smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

Rey smiles—a real, wide, toothy grin—and nods eagerly. “Of course, Master. I would use the rumours of my attachment to Poe to my advantage. We would feign an illicit affair that you would put a stop to eventually. Poe would follow your orders, or Leia’s if you were to ask her, and I would be so heartbroken over his rejection that I renounced the Order and the Resistance and joined Ben.”

She turns to him and pats his knee, eyes sincere as she adds, “It only works if you and Ben would be okay with it, of course.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off when Luke snorts, and he turns to find the older man pinching the bridge of his nose with his metal fingers as he shakes his head. “You and I,” Luke grouses as he looks up at Poe, “are going to have a _talk_ about these rumours someday soon.”

Luke’s glare—even a rather playful one—is quite intimidating, and though Poe would like nothing more than to shy away from Luke’s intent gaze, he meets the elder man’s eyes steadily as he nods, which seems to appease Luke for the time being. “I agree your plan has its merits, Rey, and you’ve obviously given it a great deal of thought, but—”

“It’s a good plan, Master,” Rey insists, digging her fingers into Poe’s arm as she speaks, almost as though she wants to drive the point home by leaving little crescent-shaped marks on his skin. “Please, at least think about it. Ben needs our help and I _know_ I can do this.”

Poe doesn’t even have to look at her to know she is giving Luke _that_ look—the one she had perfected at age eleven to ensure that everyone in her life would give her whatever she wanted. Poe has found himself utterly unable to deny her anything when she turns said look on him, and he’s fairly certain that Luke won’t fare any better than he ever has. 

“Fine,” Luke groans. “I’ll meditate on it in the morning, but I will not make another decision of this magnitude without informing Leia again. She would have my hide. We should have told her about the plan a long time ago.”

Poe narrowly manages to cover up his snort of amusement as a cough, turning away from Luke to hide his shit-eating grin. He adores Leia Organa, and it has nothing to do with his hope he might be able to call her his mother-in-law one day—though he must admit a part of him is ridiculously excited at the prospect—and _everyone_ knows Leia is the one in charge in her relationship with both her brother, when he dares venture out of his temple, and her husband, when he is capable of staying for more than a day.

“Now leave this old man to his beauty sleep,” Luke grunts, impatiently gesturing towards the door. “Rey, I expect you at dawn for meditation. Poe, we will meet both you and Leia around noon. I have a feeling we’ll need to take our time to explain ourselves to her.”

The idea of divulging their secret to another person— _especially_ Leia—is more than a little terrifying, but he shelves those feelings and concerns temporarily. It’ll do him no good to doubt Luke’s judgement anymore, and he’s _certain_ Leia would rather die than give away their secret. They will be giving her back her son, after all, and he knows that that is what Leia had been secretly wishing for since Ben left.

“Goodnight,” he tells Luke decidedly, before offering Rey a quick smile as he heads out the door.

He can hear their voices murmuring softly as he steps out into the dark hallway, the sound of their voices oddly soothing as he leans back against the wall and tilts his head back, his eyes slipping shut.

The exhaustion of the past few days is finally catching up to him, and he is ready to collapse and sleep where he stands. He knows, however, that he needs to get back to the Resistance Base and sleep in a real bed before he is expected at debrief in the morning, and then their conversation with Leia in the afternoon. He has no illusions that it will be a short or an easy conversation, and Leia _will_ probably kill them, resurrect them and then just kill them again for lying to her.

It will be worth it.

He’ll do whatever it takes to help Ben fulfil the mission they’d embarked on together.

“Poe?”

His eyes snap open and he is only a little surprised to find Rey standing in front of him, eyes wide and tentative as she looks up at him. They look at each other for a long, silent moment before he offers her a small smile and pushes off the wall, heading back down the darkened hallway. He is not surprised at all to hear her fall into step beside him, their combined steps soft, rhythmic thuds on the stone floors.

“I felt it too, you know?” Rey murmurs as he pushes the door open, avoiding his eye when he tilts his head to look at her. “The darkness that surrounds him is threatening to suffocate him… He’s having nightmares again, too, and it’s like he can’t tell the difference between reality and dreams anymore.”

She sounds dejected and worried, and her words are naught but fuel to the flames that feed his own uncertainty. “I’ll figure something out,” he insists stubbornly. “I’m _going_ to help him, regardless of what Leia says tomorrow.” He sounds far from composed and strong, as he had aimed for, but he also knows that Rey shares in his fear for Ben’s mental state, and that she’ll not judge him for being afraid.

“I care about him too, Poe,” Rey says reproachfully as she shoots him a quick glare, and he feels much like a scolded child beneath her gaze. “If I can help him by doing this, then I will.”

He stops abruptly and curls his fingers around her upper arms, tugging her to a standstill as well. Her body angles towards his and he freezes midway as her wide, startled gaze meets his, and suddenly he isn’t quite sure what he meant to do anymore. “I _know_ you care about him too,” he presses, pushing closer to her as he speaks. “ _Of course_ I know that. But _Rey_ …”

His words stick in the back of his throat as he stares at her, captivated by the way the stars reflect in her dark eyes. Her pupils are dilated, and he has to suppress the urge to shiver beneath the intensity of her gaze, his senses abruptly overwhelmed by the contrast of the heat of her body so close to his and the soft, cool breeze that wafts over his skin.

His gaze is drawn down to her lips when she traces the tip of her tongue over her full, pink bottom lip—

He isn’t sure which one of them moves, but suddenly she is pressed against his front, and her fingers are curled in his hair as a breathy sigh falls from her lips. She trembles beneath his hands and he is acutely aware that he need only tilt his head to connect their lips—and _stars_ , he _wants_ , he _longs_ …

She smells vaguely of the sun and the small yellow flowers that grow on the lakebed before the Temple, and her skin is silky soft beneath his fingers, and the combination of the sweetness of her scent and feeling her lithe form pressed up against him is so _heady_ he can barely breathe.

He cannot remember ever _wanting_ someone quite like this, and the intensity of the feeling _terrifies_ him. He's only ever felt like this about Ben—

Ben.

 _Ben_.

He can’t do this to him.

He can't do this this to _himself_.  

“No,” he chokes, squeezing his eyes shut as he withdraws from her, the feel of her fingers slipping from his hair almost _too much_ , and he _almost_ steps forward again, _almost_ leans in to kiss her after all—but then thoughts of Ben slip back into his mind and he feels _sick_. “I _love_ Ben,” he insists, deliberately not looking at her. “I can’t do this to him, Rey. I won't.”

He turns on his heel and ignores the soft noise of protest that falls from Rey’s lips.

He _can’t_.

He starts walking towards the shuttle and refuses to think on what he almost did—there's a whisper of guilt in the back of his mind for simply _leaving_ Rey like this, but he is... He’s too tired, too fearful, and he’ll only do something stupid if he continues to think about _everything_ now.

There’s always tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry for the long wait on this. I was a bit caught up in outlining this story and Absolute Magnetism, my other Reylo story (for those who read that, working on the next chapter too!) I'm very excited about this story, and I have it largely outlined now (the first arc anyway) and I hope you guys are going to love it as much as I do!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is reading and supporting this story! And thank you to Meaghan for being the best beta and letting my ramble on this and everything!
> 
> Also... Yeah.. Sorry :p -hides-
> 
> Love, Annaelle


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